My slow paced motion
Make me feel the power of my lotion
Make me hear the rhythms of my strides
Make me think in the poetry pride
And I feel alright
I may be lost
But then I must post
That whoever minds me
Should know I am alright wherever
And sooner trace my foot prints
Because I am bored
In the lone store of boredom.

This nose was an overgrowth
It smells bad,denying me health

This ear was an overgrowth
It hears bad denying me peace

This eye was an overgrowth
It sees the wrong making me to sin

This mouth was an overgrowth
It pours saliver over dead meat,making me to eat bad

This ***** was an overgrowth
It errects over beautiful thighs, making me go insane

This legs were overgrowths
They take me to sin leaving my heart
To fight within my ribcage

After all the overgrowths bring me stress and strain
Not even half do I need
I need full chop of them

I will have ethernal life
Eternal peace
Eternal love
Eternal security
And eternal happinness.

This mark of hatred
You left over my skin
Refused to heal
Years that went
It refused pain to cease
It hurt and makes me cry
In times of joy,

All of a sudden I cry
Just for rewinding
What happened days ago
Was it a curse?

I leave a spell over it
And when I die,
I hope this pain will end!
The pain you left over me

This scar,
Will make my spirit fight you
Over eternity!

Give me a single chance
And my story will be different
I will use shakes Spears' language
And all shall bow for me

Give me a single chance,
And my story will be different
I will wear the jeans I left unwashed
It makes me look slender

Give me a single chance
And my story will be different
I will write my best handwriting
It will please your sight

Give me a single chance
And my story will be different
I will perform like never before
I know you will like it

.......

My sincere request
And my heart stands it well
That you poke me
Always I mess you
Not for anything bad
But to remind me of the life I live
Pleasing but temporary
Nice but short
Poke me right there I mess
To help me change.

Do not forget
To share this story
Entitled bedtime story
Do it in your style
Don't let anyone know your story
The reason is best known to you
You alone.

Empty page
Full of innocence
Young ,fresh and tender
Yet you call them fools

Playing in soft clay
Running over muddy water
Happy in dirt
Young ,fresh and tender
Yet you call them fools

Mind ready to receive
Bad or good all the same
Mission accomplished,
The empty cells occupied,
But the sequence begins
The consequences of your teachings.
Young ,fresh and tender
Yet you call them fools.